Coffee Leads to Sex, Just Ask Blair Waldorf
by JukeboxHero3692
Summary: "They weren't even friends. She decided to tell him that. She hoped by saying it multiple times he would get it through his thick, absurdly curly head." How Dan and Blair became friends and not friends and then soulmates.
1. Chapter 1

Dan hissed as a burning drop of coffee seared against the bare skin of his knuckle. He tried, albeit unsuccessfully, not to contemplate why he was holding the damn thing in the first place. The cup was for Blair Waldorf of all people. Hadn't he once called her the epitome of girly evil? He wiped off the scalding bit of liquid and concluded that this entire situation was preposterous.

But it was something else too. It was exciting. Nate, as much as Dan liked hanging with him, could never really see past the girls he was dating or the sports he was playing. Serena, as much as Dan loved her, had her head firmly in the clouds. It's what drew him to her. For a guy who spends endless hours thinking, analyzing, brooding, a beautiful girl with the ability to distract him from his own mind, let him just be was incredibly alluring. Vanessa was the only person who neared the sphere of his sensitivities, being obsessed as she was with film. But she was gone. Worse, she had betrayed him. There was no one now really, except Blair.

And Blair was far from alluring. In fact, Dan would have to say that she was the most abrasive, bossy, deceptive woman he'd ever met. But damn if she wasn't intelligent. She loved the opera, adored the theater, spent hours at art museums, followed the ballet, watched classic movies in her spare time, and ate only the most exquisite cuisine. The combination of her tastes culminated in an intellect he observed often to be superior to his own. He wondered now that they hadn't hung out sooner. Clearly, they were both starving for people with their interests. It's why they both tried so hard not to screw this up. Or to let Gossip Girl screw it up.

"Dan Humphrey waiting outside with coffee, you must have heard that the Film Forum's showing _My Fair Lady, _this Friday."

Dan whipped around to see her mouth half-smiling, half-smirking, and one hand on her hip, the other outstretched for the proffered cup of coffee. He raised his eyes to the sky and handed it to her. "No, no, no. I knew you'd say that. But I cannot go see another old musical with you there. I'm pretty sure the ticket guy is convinced I'm your gay best friend."

"Well, we can't have anyone thinking we're friends now can we. What do you want then?" she quipped, tucking a wayward hair behind her ear and walking briskly out the hotel foyer.

"Just hear me out."

"Never a great start."

"I was thinking I show you something I've been working on."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. She scoffed. "You mean we'll have a 'let's waste time reading one of Humphrey's lovesick tirades about Serena' party. Gee, I just checked my schedule and discovered that I'm incredibly busy for the rest of my life."

Dan jogged to get in front of her, blocking her purposeful stride. "First of all, it's not any of my writing. I've been feeling pretty frustrated with my writing lately, as you know, so I decided to work on this other thing. Second of all, it has nothing to do with Serena. In fact, I've declared it a Serena-free zone."

Blair paused, mostly because he was in her way but also because she had no idea why he would want to show this to her. They weren't even friends. She decided to tell him that. She hoped by saying it multiple times he would get it through his thick, absurdly curly head. "Humphrey, we're not even friends. Just because we've be..."

"Been to six movies together. No, you don't have to say it. I know that line." He stepped out of her way. "Never mind. Have fun by yourself at the Film Forum."

Dan turned to leave, and Blair was entirely prepared to let Brooklyn walk away with that insipid, kicked puppy look on his face when she took a sip of the coffee he'd given her. She could feel the heat of it melting away her resolve. "All right. But now you definitely have to see _My Fair Lady _and _Singing in the Rain_. Oh, and you have to hit on the ticket guy. "

Dan smothered a smile before turning back to face her. "Deal. Except for that last bit."

"Fine, get lost then Humphrey. I'll see you this weekend if there's nothing better to do."

Dan bit his tongue as she gracefully sat in the town car waiting for her. He held the car door open for a moment to say, "Friday, 7. Don't be late."

He stepped back and shut the door decisively. Blair took another sip of her coffee and watched the intellectual snob stride away like he owned the city. She almost laughed aloud at his ridiculous strut. He better than most should know that Blair Waldorf was head bitch in charge of NYC. It's frankly ridiculous for anyone, for a moment, to think otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

Blair could not believe the amount of effort it took on her part to get to Brooklyn's apartment that Friday.

Ever since he had invited her, she began working on how to get there whilst flying under everyone's radar. She decided off the bat she didn't really trust the new Columbia minions to cover for her yet. They hadn't really gotten a chance to prove their worth or devotion to her with scheming. They were new and a bit too replaceable to be trusted with classified information.

She supposed she could ask Dorota to cover for her. But that would mean a long conversation in the future explaining why she needed her help. Blair would have had to manufacture an entire fake scheme in order to sate her curiosity, or worse, she would have ended up telling her the truth. And Blair couldn't have that.

So, that Friday, she gave Dorota the day off, and suggested in her backhanded Waldorf way, that Serena go out with her parolee. Serena rolled her eyes, but didn't need telling twice. Blair shook her head and held back a scowl. Part of her was sad and guilty that she was supporting this dysfunctional relationship in order to keep Serena distracted. But not a very large part of her. Serena always made her own mistakes despite Blair's opinion. Serena was a law unto herself and Blair wouldn't have it any other way.

By six o'clock, she had the apartment to herself and got on with the rest of her plan.

She simply couldn't have any minions of Gossip Girl recognizing her regular town car, headed toward Brooklyn without Serena or a gun to her head. So, she decided that she would use a completely different car service. She even went the extra mile and asked specifically for a driver who was a temp. Hopefully, the man wouldn't be around long enough to be poached for information if everything went wrong and GG spies decided to launch an investigation into Blair's strange, new behavior.

The thought had crossed her mind that this was all a bit much. _But paranoia and planning save the social life_, she told herself as she wrapped a dark blue scarf around her head and donned on large, face-concealing sunglasses.

She exited through the back entrance of the apartment building, briskly walked a couple blocks west, and found the car waiting for her just as she'd asked. It was the embodiment of her scheme's success and she allowed herself a small, triumphant smile as she slid into the back seat.

Tonight was going to be a good night, she wagered, rolling the car window down slightly. She let the sight of the night sky and her city's skyline sink into the chasms of her skin, and whisper songs of beauty and glamor in her ear.

For a moment, her heart beat a bit wildly in anticipation. With a sigh, she reined it in, made it settle into a loud but steady beat. Yes, tonight was going to great. She could just feel it.

Once the car reached his street, she searched about for anyone exhibiting suspicious behavior. When she was sure she was safe, she paid her man and made her way to his apartment door. She looked down at her watch to see it said 7:08. Annoyed by her own tardiness, she could already imagine how ungracious he was going to be about it after she went through all this effort.

Removing the sunglasses and taking a deep breath of pained acceptance, Blair rapped her knuckles sharply against the door. She heard a bit of a scramble through the door, a stifled shout of pain, and low stream of swear words. She let a small smile escape. By the time the door opened, it was gone and Dan was standing before her with a look of mild disbelief on his face. "Blair," he said incredulously, "You're here."

"Were you expecting someone else?" she responded disinterestedly.

"No…I mean. You said you'd only be by if there was nothing better to do, and when you weren't here on time, I just assumed…"

"Serena is on a date with her new boy toy, Dorota has the day off, Nate and Chuck are off doing god knows what with god knows who, and my minions are as interesting as an hour long infomercial. Don't feel special Humphrey. I am saving myself from dying of boredom."

Dan stared for a second then snorted, turning away from her. He was so smug about something.

"What?'' she demanded, crossing the threshold and setting her purse and scarf down on the bar stool chairs.

"There was literally nothing else to do in all of New York City," he said, catching her eye, trying to force her to recant her statement. It was like he'd never met her before.

"Literally. I triple checked. It's why I was late. I blame the economy. These are tough times for all of us, Humphrey."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Clearly."

There was an awkward pause where neither seemed to know what to do. Their banter always ebbed and flowed and there was hardly ever a pause between them because they both could wax poetic on philosophy, art, literature, and film like they were the first ones to do it, like their ideas were the most original, fascinating, freshest takes on the subjects.

But there was a pause now. They were both intelligent people. The significance of the situation was not lost on them. The fact that she had come, the fact that he had invited her in the first place, the fact that she had set her stuff down and showed no signs of leaving, the fact that he was smiling at her.

Blair looked decidedly away from him to sneer at the apartment, in an attempt to stabilize the situation. They were veering dangerously into a friendship zone. She needed to insult him. "I see you've done absolutely nothing to the place, despite my insistence that you throw everything out."

He smiled again, not even trying to hide it anymore. "Actually, that's what I wanted to show you," he said, motioning her to follow him to the other room.

She shot him a disdainful and quizzical look but followed. _I am a saint_, she thought to herself. _And he is a Labrador. _

He led her into his room which was entirely bare except for his bed. She surveyed the emptiness and asked, "Are you training to be a monk?"

He barked a laugh. _Such a Labrador. _"No, I'm actually revamping the place. Since Ben and Jenny moved out, I decided to lift the garage door and make myself either a huge bedroom, or a bedroom slash work room. I haven't really decided yet. And I was wondering if you could lend me a hand."

"You'd said you'd been working on it," she said, a bit daunted by what he was asking her. This project could take well over a month. And he would not be allowed to touch anything without her express say so if she was going to be involved.

"The furniture and books and things I moved out myself. I found a storage unit for everything. That took me days," he said defensively.

Blair raised her eyes to the heavens. "And why on earth did you do that Humphrey? Ugh. If you were going to invite me to help with this project at all, you should have gotten me in on the ground floor."

He squinted his eyes and asked, "So is that a no?"

"This was a mean trick, Humphrey," she said harshly, "Invite me over and wave an opportunity to right a grievous atrocity in my face. How is that fair?"

He still looked confused. "So that's yes then."

"That's a how could I possibly trust you to do this by yourself when you can't even dress yourself properly."

"Ok. That's a yes."

"I'm putting this down on my resume under community service. I'm helping the disabled."

"Hey. I do all right."

She caught his gaze, looked down significantly at his plaid shirt, and back up again. "I rest my case."

He chuckled the insult off and asked himself, "Why did I even invite you in the first place?"

"Inviting me was the best decision you've ever made, Humphrey. Now, we have to get going or we're going to be late to _My Fair Lady_."

"Whatever you say, Waldorf."

She rewrapped her scarf around her head and she caught him staring at her. She narrowed her eyes at him and he seemed to come back to himself. She rolled her eyes again.

"You know this means we're probably going to be spending a lot of time together?" he asked. Why did he always need to point out the uncomfortable truths?

"I'm **painfully** aware of that fact, Humphrey," she said sharply.

"How are you gonna cover up for it?"

"I've always wanted to take a pottery class," she said loftily.

She headed for the door and was surprised to find him right behind her.

"Have I taught you nothing? Wait fifteen minutes then head up after me. Honestly, you're acting like there isn't an omnipresent internet sensation that tracks our every move."

"Right. See you there, Blair," he said, smiling at the rhyme.

"Only friends get to call me Blair," she shot at him. She watched his chest deflate like her sharp words had popped it like a bubble.

"Right. Waldorf. Got it," he snapped, shutting the door a bit louder than normal.

Blair did not feel bad about that. She didn't. _They __**were not**__ friends._ It's not her fault Humphrey forgot that for a moment.

She shook off that little episode and made her way down his apartment stairs. She knew by the time she reached the Film Forum, her comment would be forgotten. It would bounce off him like all her comments seemed to. They'd be fine once they sat in the dark theatre with no eyes watching and could just talk. In the theater, it was like anything goes, no pressure, they could just be. With an entity like Gossip Girl on your tail, time away from prying eyes was magical. It was nice to have someone to share it with.

Even that person was Dan Humphrey.


	3. Chapter 3

Dan immediately regretted the way he handled her comment. _Slamming the door, Dan? Really? Are we twelve?_

She was totally within her rights to call him out on calling her Blair. It even felt weird saying it, like he was butchering a foreign language. Sure, he had the accent down, but the context was all wrong.

He knew they weren't friends. He got that. The comment had just caught him unawares. Yes, it just… threw him off. Because if this wasn't friendship, then what was it exactly?

He shook the dangerous thought out of his mind and sank slowly into the sofa. He rested his elbows on his knees, cupping his face in his hands and staring intently at the clock. He always made sure to leave exactly fifteen minutes on the dot after she left. He never liked to give her reason to doubt him because he knew the moment she thought he was no longer interested, all interaction would cease.

His eyes wandered over to his bare room for a moment. He put a hand over his eyes and wondered at how stupid he was. He didn't really need another project. He was going to NYU, he was looking for internships and odd jobs and he was dealing with daily family drama. He didn't really need to overhaul his room and make himself feel like he was living in solitary confinement.

When he had mentioned the idea to Eric and Rufus, he was wisely told to hold off until summer. When he told Nate about it, Nate told him to do what he needed to do man, which seemed helpful and supportive at the time but he now realized was frustratingly vague.

In the end, he decided the project _was _necessary. Everything in the place kept reminding him of the people who were gone, his sister, his mother, his best friend. Those three had made their mark on the place over the years. Living here for so long without them began to make him feel like an outsider in his own home, or rather like both he and the apartment were waiting for them to come back.

But they weren't coming back. Dan needed to find his place in this new order of things. He needed to make the apartment his own. He was going to move on if it killed him.

Plus, it'll be fun watching Waldorf's head implode from his sheer lack of taste.

Time passed ever so painfully for him. He had never been an exceptionally patient person. He imagined his hell would be some sort of waiting room. Finally though, the clock blinked the magic numbers. Standing up, he smiled and was on his way.

When he finally reached the Film Forum, he was irked to find the same ticket stub hack working there as always. The man had an awkwardly shaped face, Dan decided, like that of a squash. Ever since Senor Squash had picked up on Dan and Blair's odd behavior, he always seemed to be waging an internal war on whether to spout a psalm at Dan or mind his own damn business. He acted like they were having some sordid affair. He wanted to shout at him, "We don't even sit next to each other in the theater! She always sits at least two seats away!"

_But it's none of his __**god damn**__ business,_ Dan repeated in his head. He was sick of everyone making his every move their own personal business.

He strode purposefully toward the door of the theater. He restrained himself from slamming the door. Twice in one night and he would send himself back to kindergarten.

The bad mood evaporated immediately once he got inside and spotted Blair buying their ritual Buncha Crunch. See, she always buys a box and decides about one fourth of the way through that she can't possibly eat any more and tosses it to him for him to finish. Dan suspects that she thinks of him as more of a dog than anything else; therefore, it's only right that he gets her leftovers.

He walked calmly toward her. Once behind her, he bantered good-naturedly, "Waldorf, are you stalking me?"

He watched her ribs expand and contract in an exaggerated sigh before she turned around to face him, Buncha Crunch in hand. "Oh god, not you again. I thought I told you that this part of the city was mine. In fact, I gave you most of the city to roam wild and plaid and free, just leave me my Upper East Side."

"My dad lives in the Upper East Side. Are you so cruel as to deny me my visitation rights? Even hardened criminals get those."

She looked at him somberly as they walked toward their theater. "You have committed multiple crimes against fashion, Humphrey. I ought to suspend your visitation rights indefinitely. But since I am a saint, you can visit Rufus on holidays and odd weekends. Another felony like those shoes though and these rights will be revoked."

He cast a glance down at the crime in question while he opened the theater door for her. "What's wrong with my shoes?"

The theater was mostly empty except for the odd couple here and there. Blair hissed distractedly at him while she found them seats, "I cannot believe you even have to ask me that question. I don't think I can share my Buncha Crunch with such a complete moron."

Dan pouted. His stomach had actually been yelling at him for not eating dinner on the drive over. He wrapped his fingers around her elbow and whined, "But I'm hungry!"

Through the darkness, he strained his eyes and thought he saw her lips quiver like she was on the verge of laughing in his face. "I'm sorry but unless you agree to a verbal contract in which you promise to burn those and never speak of them again, I'm afraid that _legally_ I can't share a single Buncha Crunch with you."

He scowled playfully at her for a minute, before sitting down and saying, "They'll be set ablaze when I get home. I'll have to find a fireplace first though."

"Good boy," she said patronizingly, slapping a couple of the candies in his hand and sitting down two seats away. Yep, he's definitely just a man-shaped dog to her. She chuckled darkly and hissed again, "You could have just bought your own box of Buncha Crunch. Not that this suggestion in any way negates the verbal contract you just agreed to."

He smiled and shot back, "You never finish yours anyways. It'd be wasteful. I'm just thinking of the environment."

He could feel rather than see her rolling her eyes.

After a beat, she hissed over to him, "This one of Audrey's isn't actually my favorite."

"And yet, you demanded we see it."

"Of course we see it. It's still Audrey."

"Does it specifically say in the bible of Audrey Hepburn that thou shalt never take the name Hepburn in vain nor miss a single film that plays at the Film Forum?"

"Yes. How'd you know that? Are you a believer?"

"Oh god."

"Honestly, I would be the pope of that religion."

"You would be the pope, the Vatican and the Basilica of that religion."

"I really, really would."

"Waldorf, all this stage whispering is getting ridiculous. Would you just sit next to me? I can't even reach the Buncha Crunch."

"Plausible deniability, Humphrey. Gossip Girl is an enemy with many faces."

"Everyone in this theater heard this conversation. If any of them are Gossip Girl, there's no plausibly denying our way out of it. But whatever, sit next to me or don't, just give me more Buncha Crunch."

"Jesus, Humphrey, did you forget to eat or something?" she said, handing over a couple and refusing to leave her seat.

He rolled his eyes and got up and sat next to her. He watched her body stiffen. He pretended not to notice and helped himself to a larger handful.

"All this work at keeping this a secret and you are going to blow it over some Buncha Crunch," she muttered, still stiff as a statue.

Dan nudged her with his elbow. "Lighten up Waldorf. I have total faith in your uncanny skill to come up with a lie at the drop of a hat. We'll be fine."

Her body language colored her unconvinced. But then she took a deep breath, and said flatly, "I suppose I am brilliant…"

"You are wonderful and brilliant and chocolatey."

"Sweet Hepburn, the things you'll say for food. You are going to eat a million of these things and die of obesity. Then, I will come to your funeral and laugh. They won't even be able to fit you into the coffin you'll be so large."

Dan let a laugh escape; she elbowed him in the ribcage sharply, making it turn into a loud cry of pain. One of the couples turned around to shame them with a "shush."

"Oh, so sorry. It's nothing. She's just _abusing_ me."

She stepped on his foot this time, eliciting another grunt of pain. "Could you just please shut up Humphrey and watch _My _**fucking** _Fair Lady_."

Her outburst set him off on a fit of sniggers like he was actually twelve years old again. "I've never actually heard you say that before!"

"Fucking? Honestly, I thought I was speaking to an adult. But clearly, looks can be deceiving."

He released the hand that was working to stifle the noise to say, "You're just so prim and proper and cla…"

She interrupted him, "And cutthroat and bitchy and mischievous. Of course I say fucking, Humphrey. Pull yourself together."

He could tell he was pushing several of her buttons and making her uncomfortable all around. He did want this to be fun for her. He sobered up and apologized. "I'm sorry, Waldorf. Really. I don't know what's gotten into me. I blame the sugar."

She was rolling her eyes again. He had developed a sixth sense for recognizing when she does it. In any given conversation with him, the practically involuntary motion was bound to happen at least three times. "It's fine, just watch the movie. Or I swear those two are going to kick us out," she said icily.

The movie passed by slowly. They'd both seen _My Fair Lady_ multiple times. They really should have just saved their money and gotten something new off Netflix. Blair, devoted as she was to showing her support for Audrey, began to sink lower and lower into the seat. It might not have been her favorite Audrey movie, but he still caught her mouthing the odd lyric or quote. Eventually, it seemed she could not fight off her fatigue any longer and rested her head on his shoulder once more.

She was warm and smelled like fresh rain.

When the credits rolled, he nudged her gently. She opened her eyes slowly, gazing from underneath her fallen curls and dark lashes. Eventually recognition dawned on her and she leapt back like his touch had scorched her.

He sighed. Some things never change.

"Have a good nap?" he asked derisively. "Hope our little movie didn't get in the way of your beauty sleep."

She was rubbing her eyes daintily so as not to ruin her makeup. "Your proximity literally puts me to sleep. Good to know."

"You could have just said yes I had a good nap."

"No fun in that," she mumbled before a large yawn. She smiled sleepily and with a sarcastic sweetness. It was his turn to roll his eyes.

"I guess this is good night, Waldorf," he said a little too softly. He made up for it by saying, "And this time, I get to leave first."

Her smile was a scowl in 2 seconds flat. He laughed at her expression, and before he could stop himself, ruffled her hair affectionately, messing up any semblance of style it had left. Her mouth dropped open in both shock and fury. Dan scurried out of there before she could properly react. But once he was outside the theater, he could have sworn he heard a smothered battle cry for retribution.

He smiled to himself as he called himself a cab. _Bring it on, Waldorf, _he thought triumphantly. He could take what she dished out.

When he finally reached the apartment, he was beginning to feel Blair's fatigue. He let himself in before quickly heading toward his bedroom door. Opening it, he paused in the middle of the doorframe, feeling for the first time honest to god affection for the bare, white wasteland. Right now, the pair of them were blank pages, desperate for someone to fill their emptiness with a story. He felt strangely jealous for a moment. His bedroom's void would soon be filled, its story in the capable hands of Blair Waldorf.

His story was barely in his control these days. The loneliness that lingered in the background of his waking hours was giving no indication moving on.

He was weirdly grateful that Blair was going to be around more often. With a character like Blair Waldorf entering center stage, the story was bound to get more interesting.

With that hopeful thought, he shut the door, stripped down and climbed into bed. He let the craving for a fresher story wash over him until he was drowning in dreams of a fruitful future.

_I might like her after all, _he thought groggily, his last hold on reality dissolving, and the deepest of dreams conquering his consciousness. _She's not so bad, all things considered. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note at End Apologizing for the delay. **

**Disclaimer (which goes for the previous chapters): I do not own Dan or Blair or Gossip Girl. If I did, Dan and Blair would be together by now.  
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* * *

><p>Blair felt oddly relaxed that next Wednesday morning. Though she had spent half the night bickering with Humphrey about what style his future room would embody, she awoke with a zesty Zen that had Dorota eyeing her with suspicion and checking her medicine cabinet for hard drugs.<p>

Kissing her scowling maid on the cheek, she left the apartment for the monthly minion meeting at her favorite coffee shop. The night before, she decided she needed to be early for class and sent out a mass text to meet her half an hour earlier than originally planned. She had sent that text at two am.

She supposed it might be a bit mean to find the prospect of their panic hilarious, but she couldn't stop smiling. The faces of those wandering in late were just going to be priceless.

She strode purposefully into the shop, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips, when she caught site of Nate and Chuck with two nameless girls in tow. Their state of the dress was disheveled at best, and the interlaced limbs and loud laughs painted the perfect picture of a night that never ended.

It wasn't too long until he spotted her. They locked eyes for a moment too long and suddenly they had the whole party's attention. She ordered quickly, then stood her ground and waited for them to approach her.

"Chuck," she said sharply, "Nate."

She could feel the intensity of his stare on her, raking her skin, trying to force a reaction. She refused to acknowledge it and instead focused her attention on Nate who was attempting to make introductions.

"Jackie, Olivia, I'd like to introduce you to Blair Waldorf. Blair, this is Jackie and –"

"Olivia, I'm guessing," she said coolly, offering a firm handshake to the badly dressed bimbos.

"So, you two are their new favorite flavor of the week. How does it feel to be entirely replaceable?" she asked sweetly.

"Actually, Blair, Jackie and I have been going out for three weeks," Chuck said, gathering Jackie to his side, eyes sparkling with spite, "Looks like it's you who's replaceable."

She would have died before she gave away how much that hurt. She chuckled darkly and said, "Well, I for one am glad I've been replaced in your eyes."

"Oh and why's that?" he spat.

She looked him square in the eyes now, boring into their dark brown depths. "I don't want to be at the end of your rage again," she said bluntly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her comment have the desired effect. Jackie began to fidget, eying Chuck with mistrust and searching for an exit. Nate was looking everywhere except at Blair, his body a billboard of shame and guilt. She didn't really give a fuck what Olivia did, but she noticed her stare pointedly at her friend Jackie with a look that said _Danger Will Robinson_.

Chuck's stare however was the most unsettling reaction. His whole body went rigid, but he did not break from her gaze. His expression was as unreadable and as cold as ever. Finally, she broke the stare and said, "Poor Jackie though. Sweetheart, I sure hope you have health coverage. Lord knows you'll need it with this one."

She heard her name called by the cashier and stepped away from the group. She was about to pick up her coffee when she felt a fierce grip on her wrist.

"I never meant to hurt you," he insisted.

She wrestled from his grip and spat, "Oh really? Well that changes everything."

"I was drunk and my father—"

She held up a hand, and interrupted him, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a fuck."

"Blair…"

"Chuck, stop talking. You will never convince me that you mean a word you say until you get help. See a doctor, check into rehab, do _something_ differently. But you know what, even then, I still wouldn't go back to you."

"And why's that?"

"Because you sold me for a hotel! You sold me like I was a possession and not a person. And I don't think I'll ever forgive you for that."

She wished for a moment that she didn't know him so well. She could practically feel the rage and fury coursing through his veins as well as the hurt and loss and aching, twisted love. She watched the emotions fill him up, watched his hands form into fists to contain them.

She looked down significantly at his fists. He snarled, "So this is how we say good bye then? Really? After all this time."

She looked up and said, "Yes. Goodbye Chuck."

She grabbed her coffee and strode out of there as quickly as possible.

"Blair, wait!" she heard Nate call.

She did not stop walking. She was putting distance between herself and that shop.

"Blair! Blair!" he called, running up the street, finally reaching her side.

She whirled around to face him. "And what exactly do you have to say for yourself?"

"Blair, what are you talking about? I wanted to make sure you were all right—"

She cut him off, "Oh really. Well, where were you after when you saw him do that to me? Where were you the day after? And the day after that?"

"I didn't…I mean I figured…You're just…You're always okay, Blair. You have people who love you. You have Serena. You have family. He doesn't…"

She barked a laugh. "Well, at least I know where I stand with you now. You know you were _my friend_ once upon a time."

"I still am."

"No actually, as long as you stand by him and his self-destruction, you're really not."

"Blair…I—"

"See you around, Nate," she said, turning on her heel and strutting as far away from the coffee shop as humanly possible.

Her feet were screaming at her when she finally stopped. She ignored their shouts of pain, and calmly hailed herself a cab. When it stopped before her, a switch finally flipped and her poise was drained. Exhausted, she slumped easily into the back seat and held a hand to her head, willing her errant emotions to behave.

When she finally reached her flat, she slammed the door and gave Dorota a look. Without saying a word, Dorota threw her arms around Mrs. Blair, imparting every comfort she could. Blair thanked her quietly and demanded gently that she take the day off.

Dorota was about to protest when Blair took her hands and said, "I just need to be alone for a while. Queen Bee will be back up and running shortly I swear. Don't worry about me."

She laughed a little bitterly and repeated, "I'm always okay."

She didn't wait for Dorota to leave, but instead climbed up and up her spiral staircase. She entered her room slowly, and finally settled down in her comfy window nook overlooking the sea of sunny skyscrapers. She sighed. It was time to make a plan.

Logically, she knew that inevitably both Chuck and Nate were going to be in her life. They danced in the same circles all their lives and that was not about to change. Her little scene was about closure. She needed her grievances aired. She resolved to offer a thorny olive branch the next time she saw them.

Offhandedly, she mused about sabotaging the pair of them, in the same detached manner that most girls ponder which pair of shoes best match their outfit. She crossed her arms savagely across her chest when she decided she couldn't do it. She actually loved them both dearly, the bastards.

This was just a mild case of the blues. She would snap out of it. She would certainly snap out of it before she had to get to class.

She thought about skipping it, blowing it off. She'd seen enough of her peers do it. But then she had higher standards than the average American scholar. She was Blair Waldorf after all. Plus, she also knew that if Humphrey ever found out, he'd tease her about it until she was forced to beat him to death with one of her Manolos.

No, she would go to class and stop by Humphrey's later to see if he'd made any progress. She smiled softly. Thoughts mapped out and heart considerably lighter, Blair grabbed her things in a fabulous flurry and whisked herself out the flat.

The hours seemed to shrivel up quickly in the New York sun and Blair found herself considerably distracted by the time class was over.

She texted Humphrey a quick, "I'm coming over to do damage control."

He responded, "Fine. But you are not allowed to actually burn any purchases I made. I will exchange them if necessary."

"Burning them might be necessary," she typed before calling her secret car service and asking for another temp.

"There's no pleasing you, is there?" he responded.

"Now you're catching on."

When she knocked on his door, he opened it quickly with a stupid, over-exaggerated smile plastered on his face. She was instantly suspicious.

"What have you done?" she demanded.

"Me? Nothing…I just. I needed a comforter all right. I get cold at night."

She scowled. "That's the centerpiece of the room. I bet you just went out and bought the first one you could find at Kmart."

He hung his head a bit and said, "Target."

"I shouldn't even bo—"

"No, come on Blair. I just need some warmth ok. I will throw it out as soon as we get started on the room."

She gave him a look.

"I'm sorry once _you_ get started on the room."

She smiled. Dogs are so easily trained. He sat down like a good boy, and asked, "So what's your plan?"

Without further ado, she launched into a tirade.

When she first agreed to the egregious task, she had begun by trying to incorporate what little she knew of Dan with everything she knew about good taste. It was daunting trying to force the two to intermingle, but she came up with a decent compromise.

Dan was the nostalgic type. A typical writer, he built people, situations, and even time periods up to ridiculously standards in his mind. He deluded himself with dreams of golden ages with golden people. She knew that when it came to his room and work room, she would need to give it a classic, vintage feel.

She spouted off about her brilliant plan for about ten minutes. He finally stopped her when she started pulling out different magazines with furniture marked in them.

Laughing, he put his hands up in surrender and said, "Ok, ok. I trust you. But we can't get all that now. Why don't we just watch a movie tonight and start shopping this weekend?"

She contemplated eviscerating him for interrupting her dazzlingly detailed plan. But his stupid face was so soft and sincere, she yielded. "Fine," she said, sitting down on the couch. "But only because, it's been a long day."

He tried to hide a smile and Blair mused on how he was the least subtle human being she'd ever come across. He sat down next to her, turned on the tv, and went straight to his Netflix queue.

He scrolled down to _The Philadelphia Story_, and cast a sidelong glance for her approval. She nodded minutely and leaned back to get more comfortable.

"Long day, huh?" he asked her.

She yawned tactfully in her hand and nodded.

"Why?"

She cast him the patented _we are not friends look _and said, "Just watch the movie Humphrey."

She could feel him getting sullen until he finally snapped, "You could just tell me."

She rolled her eyes and laughed at the hurt expression on his face. She waited for him to laugh it off, but no, he decided to make this awkward. "Oh my god, I just…I ran into Chuck, all right."

She didn't look at him, and kept her eyes focused on the screen. She could feel his gaze and was reminded violently of Chuck. She turned and glared at him. He had the decency to look ashamed.

"That's got to be tough. Is it true about him and what's her face?" he asked gently.

She kept her eyes glued to Cary Grant's face and replied, "Yes. I actually met her today."

She kept her face still and expressionless. She refused to acknowledge his existence while he processed that.

Finally, he turned his body toward her, forcing her to shoot him a look that said _big men swathed in white should stick you with needles and lock you away_.

"Blair, I give you permission to be a horrible human being," he said like this was the most brilliant idea in the world.

"Excuse me? The number of charity galas I've started and donated to clearly indicate that my canonization should be coming through any day now."

"No, sorry I could have worded that better. I just…I give you permission to rip this girl apart, no judgment."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, cause I'm so concerned about your opinion of me."

"No, but you have that weird idea that you're superior to everyone and weirdly think insulting them behind their back is somehow cowardly."

"Why not do it to their face? You feel that angry about their existence you should share. Silence fixes nothing."

He rolled her eyes at her.

"Like right now. You're already judging me which frankly, I don't understand. How do you judge perfection? Especially when you're so—"

He cut her off, "Ok. I get it. I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."

She was a bit touched, not that he could tell. Her eyes still glued to the television set like it could save her from this sea of awkward.

"Well," she said, pausing, searching for the right words. "I suppose you are not a completely irredeemable human being, Humphrey."

She felt his gaze on her again. In moment of weakness, she turned to see that small, insipid smile on his face. She quickly turned away. "But you still have terrible taste."

He bumped her shoulder with his in a gesture she gathered was supposed to be affectionate. "Thank god I have Blair Waldorf to show me the error of my ways."

"Honestly, you were nearly beyond my help. Thank god you had sense enough to call in an expert."

"Indeed, thank god," he said quietly.

With that last thought, they settled into just watching the movie. Blair sank deep into the couch and let the familiar tones of Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant wash over her.

Before she knew it, the warmth and the darkness conspired against her, sprinkling sand in her eyes until she was fast asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_AHHH you guys I am so sorry this was so delayed! School started this week and getting set up the week before drove me out of my mind. I love all the comments I've been getting I think you are all amazing. DARE TO DAIR PEOPLE. I swear I will try to update this at least once a week from now on. Hope you like this chapter. I tried to make it longer than normal because of the guilt at not posting. Love you all. Seriously. Let's get married in New York. I'll see you next Tuesday. _


	5. Chapter 5

Rays of sunshine lapped at Dan's cheeks and eyelids, forcing him awake. He awoke with curls against his collar bone, a warmth at his side and an ache in his neck.

_Oh no. We fell asleep_, he thought, and promptly started freaking out. _Wait, wait. I'm ok. It's Thursday. Thank god. No morning classes. _ _Jesus_, w_hy do we keep watching movies we've already seen?_

He began gingerly rubbing the back of his neck, taking care not to disturb her majesty. Blair had, in the course of the night, commandeered the entire couch except for the small island he was sitting on. She even had the audacity to use him as her great human-sized pillow.

He was just about ready to shove her off when she stirred. Her head started doing this weird nuzzling thing and her breath caught for a moment before gushing hot against his neck.

Dan stilled as he waited for her breathing to settle, listening and feeling the air slip in and out her lungs.

He thought to himself, _of course she doesn't snore._ He could just imagine what she would say if he brought it up. "No of course I don't snore, Humphrey. Do you think Audrey Hepburn snored? No. Fabulous people don't snore. Why? Do _you_ snore? _Humphrey_, you are on parole! Commit such a violation near my vicinity, and I will be forced to incarcerate you. "

He smiled just thinking about it, though cohesive thoughts were becoming increasingly difficult to form as her breath tickled his neck in a way that was annoyingly distracting.

He glanced down at the shiny mass of brown curls and accidentally breathed in her scent. His breath caught.

She smelled _amazing_.

He looked down again to make sure she was sleeping and then discreetly sniffed the top of her head.

She smelled, impossibly, like rain, mixed with…something else. A perfume, obviously. He just couldn't tell which one. It was one of a kind that's for sure. It was uniquely intoxicating. He had to turn his face away to get some fresh air, before he did something stupid like kiss the top of her head and breathe her scent in deeper.

He froze. That thought did not just come into his head. He held his breath, suddenly paranoid that she could read his thoughts and would wake and cheerfully beat him to death with the remote control she still had pressed in her hand.

Any moment the beating would commence. Any moment. Any moment now.

The room stayed still so Dan finally exhaled, shaking his head at his own ridiculousness. Of course she can't _actually_ read his mind. She may think she's a goddess, but she's just as human as he is.

He tried to avoid further treacherous thoughts by focusing on Blair's flaws.

_She's stubborn. Like an ox. Like a great big, ungainly ox. _ He thought spitefully. _ She's deceptive, even when the situation doesn't call for it. She cannot let __**anyone**__ help her. I mean god forbid, she need __**anyone**__. She has stupid hair and…and…_

…_and she's also kind of wonderful. _

Dan put a hand to his forehead as realization hammered its way through his incredibly thick head.

_No, no, no, no. I cannot like Blair Waldorf. No. No. Dan __**no**__. She can show you the true meaning of the word __**crush**__. No, no, no…_

Blair chose this particular moment to stir once again. Her head moved a bit lower down his chest before bobbing back up again. She lifted her head off his shoulder and blinked blearily near his face.

He smiled. Her eyes were slack with sleep and her face was bathed in sunlight. For a moment, he swore she looked soft.

Recognition killed the sleepy sparkle in Blair's eyes and her expression quickly turned to one of wild panic.

"HUMPHREY, YOU LET ME FALL ASLEEP!" she shrieked, leaping off the couch and lunging for her purse and coat.

"Let you? I'm pretty sure I fell asleep before you did. So this one's all on you, Waldorf."

"Somehow, this is all your fault! And what were you doing, just sitting there letting me sleep. I could have had class, you, you _muppet_!"

"Muppet? Really?"

She widened her eyes and nodded her head obnoxiously.

He rolled his eyes at her and said, "I know your schedule, Blair. It's Thursday. Neither of us have morning class on Thursday. And I wasn't sitting there that long. I woke up like five minutes ago."

His words seemed to calm her down a bit. She stopped moving finally and let out a deep breath before sinking back into the opposite end of the couch. "I'm not apologizing for anything I just said."

He chuckled. "It'd be weird if you did."

It was quiet for a bit when Blair's stomach gave a loud groan. He laughed and asked, "Hungry?"

"Yes. You can make me breakfast now."

"Oh, I'm so honored."

"You should be."

Blair made a contented sound and started stretching. The only way Dan could think to describe it was she looked like an elegant, sexy kitten. He then proceeded to berate himself for that train of thought and despaired of himself as a writer.

He got up quickly and began getting out breakfast supplies. He hadn't been to the store recently, but Humphrey men always had waffle-making ingredients in stock. He was pretty sure that his family crest read, "In Waffles We Trust."

He began mashing the necessary ingredients together. He had been at it for a while when Blair finally approached the commotion. She had been checking her phone, probably checking to see if GG was on to them, but she put it back in her purse with a smile on her face. He was greatly amused when she came over and opted not to sit on the bar stool, but instead, sat her ass right down on the counter next to his bowls of batter.

"Anything you want to share?" he asked.

"I'm just brilliant is all."

He smirked. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, Waldorf."

She slapped his arm. "Shut up. I am Blair Waldorf, Queen of All the I Survey."

He could hear the capital letters as she royal waved to her imaginary subjects. "So you're queen of Brooklyn now, huh?"

She squished her nose in disgust. "Ok, maybe not _all_ I survey. You can be in charge of this hell hole. But I seriously must run this city, because Gossip Girl does not have an inkling that I'm here. It's wonderful."

She took a finger and stuck it in the batter. Smiling, she tasted his handiwork.

He sighed and stopped what he was doing. He tried and failed to ask her casually, "Is that bad to be seen with me?"

She looked thoroughly amused for a moment. When she saw he was serious, she flashed her most patronizing expression possible, ruffled his hair, and said, "Yes. Yes it is."

He tried not to focus on the feel of her fingers through his hair as he helped guide the batter into the waffle makers. A little bit still dripped over the sides. He sighed and turned away from her to set the timer. When he turned back around, he saw her at the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Sit down."

"Why?"

"Humphrey, I am your queen. Do as you're told or it's off with your head."

He put up his hands in joking surrender and sat down in the same spot she had been sitting.

"What are you doing?" he asked again.

"You like scrambled eggs, right?"

"Yes. But Blair you're the guest here."

"Technically, I'm the interior designer who didn't do anything yesterday except eat your food and watch your movies and bitch about my ex. So I'm helping. Now, just sit there and shut up."

He shook his head at her. "Can I at least turn on some music?"

"No I need complete silence for this, the most arduous of culinary feats."

"I'm turning on some music."

She chuckled. Dan turned on this song he'd been listening to for the past couple of days. He couldn't remember the band, but he started nodding his head as his iPod blasted, "Time changes every idea I've ever had…."

He turned around and saw her swaying as she broke the eggshells and threw them away.

"Huh. You have surprisingly good taste, Humphrey."

"You mean like my excellent taste in movies, in literature, in theater. Yeah, my superb taste in music should come as a real shocker to you."

"Touché, Cabbage Patch. Now, stop annoying me and sit down."

He made his way back and boosted himself back onto the counter. "We're not bringing back that nickname."

"We are if I say we are and if it annoys you, which it clearly does. So voila, the name is back in business."

He decided to ignore her and sway to the catchy beat of the drum. She laughed at his moves.

"Honestly though, Humphrey, were you raised by the Cabbage Patch kids? Where did you learn to dance like a demented childhood doll?"

He kept dancing and her smile got bigger. "You are _so_ lame," she insisted.

"What? I'm sorry. I can't hear you over the sound of my awesome dance moves."

"See, this is why I can't be seen with you in public. And get ready, the timer for the waffles is about to go off."

Not two seconds later, the sound blared from his microwave. Scooting carefully around Blair, he turned it off and smiled as he opened the waffle makers to find two gloriously brown waffles ready for consumption.

"Get plates for this. I am dying of starvation here," she said.

"Eggs almost ready?"

"The eggs are perfect. I added cheese. I hope that's acceptable."

"It's perfect, Blair. Go sit. I'll serve."

"Well, since I am queen…"

They sat down at the bar and began eating. She kept giving him strange looks in order to make this as weird as possible.

"What?" he finally asked, exasperated.

"Nothing…it's nothing."

"Ooookay then."

He kept eating and he caught her doing it again. "What?" he snapped.

"I don't want to say what I'm about to say," she shot back, glaring at him.

"All right. Then don't say it."

"I have to say it."

"Then say it."

"How bout I say what it rhymes with because I don't know if I can physical—"

"Fine. Go ahead."

"Right. It rhymes with hank you, thumphrey."

He snorted into his eggs and sprayed bits everywhere. "Seriously?"

"I'm not cleaning that up."

"Oh my god, Blair."

"Shut up."

They ate the rest of the meal in silence, listening to the Dan's music. A short while later, she had to leave, whisking out of there in a whirl of witty banter and curls. When he finally shut the door and looked at the mess they'd made, he sighed.

He went back into the kitchen and smiled fondly at the spatula she used to make the eggs. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

_Damn, I'm in this too deep already, aren't I?_

He started clearing up the physical evidence that she had been there. But her smell…He couldn't bring himself to get rid of her smell. He was almost glad when two rolled around and he had to leave for classes. Because he hadn't stopped thinking about her since she left. And that wouldn't bode well for things to come.


	6. Chapter 6

Blair had enough fire in her to level all of Brooklyn, including that stupid curly headed muppet. He had not returned a single phone call or answered a single text since Thursday. Normally, he would be sending her textual novels or leaving voicemails that went on for at least five painful minutes. Blair had not foreseen getting into this friendship that Dan would be eating up 99% of her data plan each month, but in time, she had accepted it with the patience and benevolence of a _martyr_. She had not even mentioned to him how much she loathed having to stop whole conversations to read and appropriately respond to one of his texts or that she had to find quiet places to listen to his voicemails because he had this truly awful tendency to mumble. The whole situation was infuriating, not to mention humiliating. Lonely Boy dodging Queen B's texts and calls? I don't think so.

It was _especially_ aggravating since today she was having her reconciliation lunch with Chuck. She had thought Humphrey would have a few tips on how to deal with exes since he and Serena still got on famously. She had interrogated Serena about the matter, but it had only ended in a buffet of platitudes about how Blair just needed to 'go with the flow' and 'let the past lie." Her favorite was "you really just need to let go."

Blair had not let go of a single thing she truly cared about since she was six and she let her mother put down her sick cat. And even then, when her mother asked her if she wanted a new kitten, Blair had looked up from her desk, stated in a scandalized, contemptuous tone that no kitty could ever replace Madame Cinnabuns.

Thinking about Madam Cinnabuns sent her into a righteous fury. So she picked up her phone and left him an ultimatum. "Yes, Dan. This is Blair, the person you've been avoiding all week. Consider your number deleted from my phone if you do not call me back in two hours. Consider movie nights canceled indefinitely if you do not call me back in ten hours. And consider whatever this was over if you do not call me back in twenty-four hours. You know, I'm glad we were never friends if _this_ is any indication of how you would treat them. Oh and I guess we're not going to buy any furniture for that train wreck of an apartment. Good thing I didn't put time and effort into figuring out exactly what we would need to make it look _fantastic_. Oh wait. I **did** do that! I **did** spend time cutting out certain pictures from magazines—. You know what. Never mind. Call, don't call. I don't care. This will be my last attempt at contacting you. At least not until you fix this, Cabbage Patch. Hope you die painfully!"

She almost hung up, but something kept her on the line. She added sharply, "Don't screw this up."

Furious at herself for that small admission, she punched the "End" button with gusto. Letting out a huff, she threw the phone away from her and onto her bed. She strode out of her room only to find Serena coming up the stairs. Serena noted her expression and asked, "What's wrong?"

"The world is populated by imbeciles."

Serena smiled and quipped, "If we were all as smart as you, who would you have to manipulate?"

"Don't try to placate me. I have enough righteous rage to start a Crusade."

"I was just trying to help, sweetie."

Blair sighed, and said contemplatively, "Hmm. Well, I suppose it _would_ be more of a challenge, manipulating the intelligent..."

"I really hope I didn't just give you the thought that set you on the path toward world domination. Cause if anyone could do it, Blair, you could."

"Which is why it's good that you're friends with me. I come with perks. You will be getting Paris in the new world order."

"I thank you, my queen."

"You're very welcome."

Blair paused. She gulped down some of her pride and asked, "Hey, Serena, I'm not…I'm not difficult, am I? To be friends with?"

Serena looked at her quizzically. "Why do you ask that?"

"That's not exactly a no." Blair groaned, sitting down petulantly on the stairs.

Serena sat down next to her and put her arm around her. "You are my best friend in the entire world. But I'm not going to lie and say it's been all roses and butterflies. It hasn't. But, it hasn't been the easiest being friends with me either. We stuck together though. And we'll keep sticking together until both of us are old and gray and full of sleep."

"You need to stop hanging around the English professor. This quoting Yeats business is _really_ annoying."

Serena laughed. She got up gracefully and sauntered toward her room. Over her shoulder, she shouted, "Wine comes in at the mouth and love comes in at the eye; that's all we shall know for TRUTH before we grow old and DIEEEEE. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you and I siiiiiiigh!"

"Please Serena, people already question our living arrangement as it is. You cannot be yelling love poems at me, at the top of your lungs," she shot back at her.

Serena laughed, and came out of her room holding a large purse full of clothes and necessities.

"Another sex sleepover then?"

Serena smiled and nodded excitedly. "I really think I'm in love, Blair!" she said, dancing happily down the stairs.

Blair rolled her eyes, shook her head and called out, "Have fun," as Serena pressed the elevator button.

"I will," she responded coyly, shimmying a little as the doors opened. She stepped inside and yelled, "Love you, B!"

"Love you too."

With a sharp _ding_, she was gone.

The apartment felt empty now. Even though Blair knew Dorota must be lurking around here somewhere, it still felt strangely empty. Serena just had a way of filling up a place. The two Upper East Side royals may share an apartment, but they hardly saw one another anymore. Blair missed her.

She went back to her room and glared at her phone. She refused to check it. It wasn't like she was waiting on his call.

She chose a movie from her collection at random, and went downstairs to watch it. When she popped it in, Blair was pleasantly surprised to discover that she had chosen _West Side Story_. She was absorbed—really she was—for about thirty minutes. Finally, before the curiosity actually killed her, she paused the movie and went to check her phone.

When she finally lit up the screen, she preened. There were six frantic texts, three missed calls and one voicemail from a Mr. Daniel Humphrey.

She sat down on her bed slowly and stretched before she deigned to check his response.

First text:

_Just so you know, that voicemail is the definition of emotional blackmail. Why am I responding to it? Good question. Will get back to you on that._

Second text:

_I've thought about it. I guess it's because you're important to me and despite what you think, we're FRIENDS. Get over it. _

Third text:

_Are you seriously not responding to me? Is this payback? _

Fourth text:

_All right. All right. I'm sorry. I was really busy this week. If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't responding to anyone. _

Fifth text:

_God, that probably doesn't make you feel better at all. I am genuinely sorry. It was stupid and thoughtless of me. Please don't be mad._

Sixth text:

_You know what. Screw this. I'm coming over to apologize. Is Serena there? You know what it doesn't even matter. I'm going to wait at your apartment until I see you. You have to come back sometime. I'm gonna fix this. _

Blair's jaw dropped at that last one. Serena was just here! He would have come over white knight style, banging on the door until she spoke with him and it would have ruined everything! He is _such_ an imbecile. And she was going to tell him as soon as he got here.

Oh. He was coming here. Shit. She looked around her room, tidying up a few things and hiding anything emotionally incriminating, like her own cabbage patch doll. Then, she went to the mirror and re-applied some makeup. When a voice inside her head asked her why she was doing that, she promptly told it to go to hell.

Blair smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress and went downstairs. Drawing up a chair, she sat and glared haughtily at the elevator door.

She had been sitting there for a couple of minutes when she started to feel bored and little stupid. So she checked the voicemail.

Honks, raised voices and wind all assaulted her eardrum the instant she pressed play. She moved the phone away until she finally heard his voice. "Oh… I didn't realize this was recording. Uh, well, hey Blair, this is Dan. Listen, I'm sorry about this week. I've been in what you would call an annoying broody writer mood," he chuckled awkwardly for a moment and carried on, "I've just been feeling like…like I don't know…like your mistress or something. You know since you are so embarrassed to be seen with me. I mean that was fine in the beginning when we weren't sure if we were going to be friends or kill each other. But I think it's clear now. We're friends. God, I can practically hear you sputtering, listening to this, mouthing _we are not_. But Blair, come on, face facts. We've seen eight movies together, you've slept over at my apartment, you're helping me redecorate, and you're burning my ugly clothes. If we're not friends, then what are we?"

He sighed. "Listen I'm on my way over. I don't care if Serena's there because I want people to know. I want to be able to shop for furniture with you and not have an exit contingency for every shop. I want people to know that I _like_ you…We'll talk more when I get there. See you, Blair."

Blair's heart immediately started malfunctioning. It was beating so loudly and so quickly that she doubted she would hear him coming up the elevator shaft. She told it to behave, but it would not listen.

So he liked her then. So they were…friends. She repeated that over and over again in her head, like this was a particularly difficult calculus equation she couldn't quite work out. _Dan and Blair are friends. Dan and Blair are friends? Dan and Blair are __**friends.**__ D and B are bffs. Oh God._

She kept at it for several other variations, but each one didn't make sense to her. She felt vaguely unsatisfied. Like Humphrey had misdiagnosed what this was. The question he had posed replayed in her head. _If we're not friends, then what are we?_

She shook her head and set her phone on the table. _What are we, indeed? _

Just then, Dorota came out of hiding and interrupted her reverie. "Is Missus Blair waiting for someone?"

Blair looked down at her phone. It was right that Dorota is the first one she tells. "Dan Humphrey is coming over. We're friends now."

The sound of glass crunching rang loudly throughout the apartment. Blair turned to see that Dorota had dropped a vase in shock.

"Oh it's not that weird."

Dorota's eyes bulged out of their sockets and her head shook vigorously as she shot back, "No Missus Blair. It _is_ that veird. Vhen dist happen?"

"I don't want to go into it now since he'll be here soon. But I guess it started over winter break when we kept seeing each other at the Film Forum."

Dorota put a hand to her head. "I..But..Vat is happening?"

Blair rolled her eyes, and snapped, "I'll explain later. Now pick up that glass before he gets here!"

That seemed to jolt Dorota out of her paralyzed shock, and she bustled out of the room. Of course, this is the moment Dan finally shows up.

"Hey Blair," he muttered sheepishly.

Blair just glared at him. He was just standing in her parlor, head bowed, shamefaced as if awaiting her punishment. And well, he wasn't wearing plaid today. In fact, objectively speaking, he looked somewhat fashionable. Some, not Blair, might even go so far as to say he looked….good.

He was wearing dark pants and a blue dress shirt underneath a fittingly long, black jacket. The biggest difference though, the bit that caught her by surprise, was that he had cut his hair.

For a moment, she ridiculously missed the damn mop. She quickly came to her senses and realized just how much of a favor the haircut had done him. Now, there wasn't that annoying distraction. You could just focus on his face. And his jawline. And his eyes.

Not that Blair focused on these things. But you know, other people, the common folk.

Her glare had relaxed apparently, because he was looking at her worriedly and asking, "Did you get my messages?"

"Did you send me something? I haven't checked all day because I am terribly busy and can't possibly check my phone for even a second," she said, her words dripping with derision.

"Haha. But, really though, have you checked them?"

Blair turned away from him and sat on the couch. With an imperious nod of the head, she beckoned him to join her. He rolled his eyes, and started shrugging off his coat. She was just about to respond to his question when the opening of his dress shirt moved in his efforts to strip. For a split second, his collarbone was exposed. Her heart started malfunctioning again with a vengeance and she closed her eyes quickly as if she had seen something obscene. When she opened them, he was giving her a smug, questioning look like he knew exactly what had her flustered but wasn't quite sure.

She glared at him again and snapped, "Of course, I've checked my phone, Humphrey. I'm a normal, considerate person."

He smiled as if he knew this was a step toward forgiveness. "I know. I know. I'm so sorry, _really_. I guess I just wasn't sure if you cared…"

"I don't care," she insisted, sitting face forward and ignoring the annoyingly well-dressed Labrador to her right.

He responded softly, "Clearly."

She continued to ignore him, conspicuously checking out her nails for flaws despite their obvious perfection. Finally, he moved over closer to her on the couch. She smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress once again and pointedly looked anywhere but at him. So he moved even closer, sitting beside her with next to no separation, and knocked her shoulder lightly with his own. She gave him a side-eyed glare, but didn't move. He went in for the kill and nudged her knee with his.

And just like that, all the anger she had been harboring got sucked into a void of affection. She couldn't help but feel absurdly pleased that he had cared enough to leave that many messages, to come over, to apologize and even secretly delighted in the reason why he wouldn't talk to her. He was just annoyed that she refused to admit to him or anyone else that they were friends. It was all supremely flattering. He just needed to promise never to do that stupid not talking thing to her again and they would be fine. So she relaxed into the couch.

He smiled at her, sensing his victory and relaxed into the couch as well. "So we're friends, are we?" she asked, like it was a death sentence.

He laughed. "Fraid so."

"Why didn't we just kill each other? It would have been so much simpler," she lamented, thinking about his voicemail.

"My blood would have ruined your clothes."

"But they would have been ruined for a good cause."

"I know. I know. Alas, you're stuck with me," he said, laughing nervously. The sound of it was off though, a bit shaky. It occurred to Blair that he still wasn't sure she really wanted to be his friend. She could practically hear him thinking that he steamrolled her into being friends with him. She rolled her eyes softly. No one made Blair Waldorf do anything she didn't want to do.

"Just so you know, Humphrey, being friends with me is like joining the mafia. You're in it for life. Death is your only way out."

He shot her a peculiar smile and moved his arm so that it wound across her shoulder. Then, he squeezed her in a kind of sideways hug.

He said softly into her hair, "Duly noted."

They were sitting together now like they had the other night, without an inch of space, like this behavior was normal. It shouldn't be this normal. It should be completely weird. I mean, holy Hepburn, she had actually _fallen asleep_ on top of him. And that night wasn't even the first time! This rapid familiarity was entirely foreign to her. Sure, she had known Dan for a long time, but she wasn't even this affectionate around Serena most days and she couldn't even remember the last time she had cuddled like this with Nate.

She kept trying to focus on why this was important but kept getting distracting by the soothing strokes of his thumb on her arm as he held her.

Finally, he broke the silence. "We could still go apartment shopping."

"Shouldn't we be discussing strategy on how to go about telling people about this? And I can't today anyways because….because shit, Chuck's coming over. Today is our reconciliation lunch."

She shifted reluctantly out of his warm grasp and turned to face him. He sat up too and waited for her to explain.

"Well see, after the last time I saw him, I essentially told his girlfriend that she was dating a psychotic, abusive asshole that was going to send her to the hospital."

"Abusive? Blair, people take that pretty seriously nowadays," he said in his patented, _I'm trying really hard not to judge you right now_ voice.

"Well he did break a window near my face that one time which gave me this scar," she said, pointing quickly and trying to be flippant about it.

Dan Humphrey, he-who-has-not-stopped-fidgeting-since-he-exited-his-mother's-womb, stilled and snapped, "He did what now."

Blair sighed. "It's in the past, Humphrey. Don't make this into a thing just when I'm starting to put it behind me."

"Is it something you can put behind you? Screw that, is it something you should?" he asked, his brown eyes boring furiously into hers.

She paused before answering. "Yes. And yes. Chuck says he's getting professional help. Plus, he's a fixture in my life, in this world. I just want to be able to move on. I don't want to be locked in a furious grudge with him. He was majorly drunk, and torn up and I think I can forgive him. I repeat: don't make this a thing, Humphrey."

She glared at him and he glared at her, but eventually he relented. "Fine, fine. I'll be good. It's just now I'll have to quiet the desperate urge to punch him repeatedly in the face. Man, I keep thinking I'll get sick of doing it, but it's actually one of my favorite pastimes."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on now, you guys were friends once. I remember him talking about it. You don't completely hate him."

"He told you about that?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"We were together for a long time, Humphrey. He told me just about everything," she said a bit wistfully.

Dan shut up at that. He just stared at her sadly while she swallowed down the bitter pill of reality, refusing to drown in that sea of old sentiments. She asked earnestly, "How do you and Serena do it? You were each other's worlds and now you're nothing more than friends. How did you manage that?"

He sighed. "The hell if I know, Blair. I'm honestly not clear as to how we did it. All I can really know is that achieving the friendship we have now, well it took time, and effort and we had about a million setbacks and had to overcome just tons of hurt feelings. It'll be a struggle, you and Chuck, but I don't think it's more than you can handle. You are Blair Waldorf, after all."

She smiled wryly. "Damn straight."

She sank back into the couch again. This time, she took his arm and made him put it around her shoulder. They settled back into the warm side-hug and stayed like that in silence for a couple of minutes.

"I should go," he said finally.

She very nearly let out a petulant no, but restrained herself. "Yes, we don't need Chuck finding out before Serena. Serena should be the first to know. Well, the second I guess. Dorota knows."

He hadn't made an actual move to leave yet and asked, "You told Dorota?"

"Yes. That's probably why she hasn't come to clean up the glass vase she broke. She's probably been spying on us, trying to figure out what changed. Am I right, Dorota?"

A guilty voice came from behind them. "Yes Missus Blair."

"Well, that's…unsettling."

She laughed. "Dorota, leave us please."

"Yes Missus Blair!" her maid exclaimed in a relieved voice.

It wasn't until the scurrying had completely faded that Dan spoke again. "You told Dorota."

"Oh don't get a big head about it."

He chuckled, and then did something wholly unexpected. He kissed the top of her head. And well, that was new. She decided the best way to handle that was to pretend it hadn't happened.

"I'll see you later, Waldorf."

She was still reeling from the implications of the head kiss and just nodded and smiled until he was inside the elevator and he'd pressed the button.

Then she remembered something. "You can call me Blair now. You know, since we're friends or something."

He didn't get the chance to respond because the elevator doors were already closing when she started the sentence, but he smiled. And well, that smile, it hurt her chest. It physically pained her it was so achingly sincere. When she heard the elevator shaft rev up, she was finally alone. It was just her and the broken glass. In a truly idiotic, sentimental moment, she wished Humphrey would come back and help her pick up the pieces.

Blair shook her head at herself. _Apparently idiocy is contagious, Waldorf. That is what maids are for. _

If there was another voice in her head that said that wasn't the point, Blair stifled it.

She'd save those dangerous thoughts for another day.

* * *

><p><em>Yeah so it's been awhile since <em>_I updated. I've been having computer troubles! But my uncle has fixed them all because he is a wizard masquerading as an engineer. I hope this doesn't feel like too much of a character shift on Blair's part. I just needed a little Dair affection to get me through these long, cold canon nights. And I purposefully ended it without including the Chuck reconciliation lunch because I don't know whether y'all would care to read that or not. If you do, I can totally include it in the next Blair POV section. If you're all No Dair, No Care, that's cool too. I'm basically writing this fanfic mostly because I **love** Dan and Blair as a couple but also because I'm trying to fix some of the portrayals of the main characters, like I talked about Serena a little bit in this chapter and will probably do so more in the future and there's definitely going to be a whole where have you been Nate? arc in this fic__. SPOILERS. __ Lol. Whoops. But yeah, so tell me what you think. I love to hear from y'all. _

_**DISCLAIMER: I SO DO NOT OWN GG OR ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. IF I DID, DAIR WOULD BE THE MOTHER FUCKING END GAME. **  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

Elation rushed through Dan's veins as he practically danced his way back to Brooklyn. He hadn't lied when he said he'd been in a broody mood all week. Ever since he was struck by the fact that he might have a tiny, miniscule thing for Blair Waldorf, he'd spiraled into a self-deprecating Funk. The capital F, Funk had its benefits though: it fueled some angst-filled short stories and added a bit more depth to the train wreck that was his secret novel. On the downside though, he had developed a particularly rancid smell and looked like an unfortunate cross between a caveman and a stoner.

His dad's spider senses, thankfully, started tingling. He came in to check on Dan, took one whiff of him and literally shoved him into the shower. After Dan got out and put some clothes on, his dad demanded an explanation. As usual, Dan wouldn't give specifics, but Rufus' super-secret dad gene must have kicked in because he said just the thing Dan needed to hear.

"You know I'm so proud to call you my son."

Dan rolled his eyes and sank back into the sofa. "This is getting disgustingly ABC Family, dad."

"I mean it," he said earnestly.

Dan cracked a reluctant smile and said, "Back at you."

Dan decided then and there that he was going to get his life back together. That's why, upon his dad's departure, he got up from the sofa, put on some presentable clothes and went down to the barber's to shave his barbaric beard and do something about the mop atop his head.

The new cut he sported now felt amazing. As he unlocked the door to his apartment building, he ran his fingers absentmindedly through his hair. He had forgotten, being longhaired for so long, just how much lighter the world felt without that unnecessary load weighing him down.

He was halfway up the loft stairwell when he heard a familiar, "Dan, thank god."

To his utter amazement, Nate was lying sprawled on the floor outside his apartment. His hair was manically disheveled and his clothes reeked of gin.

"What are you doing here, Nate? It's two o'clock in the afternoon."

Nate's eyes tried to focus on him but could only flutter before shutting again. "I'm…I'm a little drunk."

"A little?"

Nate made a petulant face in response and put his hands out to signal he needed a _little_ help getting up. Sighing a bit petulantly himself, Dan leaned down to grab his arm when, suddenly, Nate yanked Dan's coat lapel down insistently.

"Dan, who am I?" he asked with complete sincerity.

Dan brushed his hand off, and quipped, "You're Nate."

Nate started gesticulating wildly. "No, no, no who am I? What am I doing with my life? Am I genemically pre-pre-prsposed to be a tool? What about love? Did you cut your hair?"

At that last musing, he started drunkenly running his hand through Dan's new do.

"Watch it, handsy," he joked. "Let's deal with one existential crisis at a time."

In a herculean feat, Dan dragged Nate's dead weight up from the floor, over the threshold and across the loft before depositing him on the sofa. Breathing heavily, Dan sat across from him on the coffee table. "So what's behind all….this," he asked, gesturing to Nate's drunken glory.

"I'm not drunk enough yet. Where is the alcohol? Is it behind the golden waffles?"

Dan rolled his eyes and put his hands together like he was about to pray. "Nate, for the last time, we Humphreys do not _actually_ have an underground vault of golden waffles. That Humphrey National Treasure bit was a joke."

Nate smiled stupidly and wagged his finger. "Don't lie to me. Especially when I'm incapasimatated."

Dan chuckled. "I think the word you were going for was incapacitated, but I'm not really sure."

Dan got up and stretched before heading to the kitchen. He watched Nate sitting dejectedly on the couch and wondered what could have provoked this. Shaking his head sadly, he got out a cup, filled it with some water from the fridge and then sat on the coffee table once more.

"Here's something for your troubles."

Nate's eyes lit up for a moment and asked naively, "Alcohol?"

Dan thought for a moment and responded, "Yep."

Nate smiled and took the cup greedily from his hands. He took a calming breath before downing the whole thing. "Liar," he said sulkily after he swallowed.

"So you're definitely drunk enough for this. Nate, I have some news for you. I mean it's sort of weird, but not completely unexpected when you think about it and well, Blair and I are friends."

Nate sat there and processed that for a while. Finally, he replied, "No. Mmm. She calls you Cabbage Patch when you're not around."

"So, she calls you Natalia when you're not around."

"What? Why!"

Nate's face was actually starting to crumple, making Dan feel completely wretched for telling him in the first place. But he had no choice but to respond. "For when you're…you know…"

A moment of clarity dawned on Nate's face followed by a moment of woe. "For when I'm acting like a girl…like I am now. I'm so, so sorry. I'llgetup'ngo," he said in one drunken slur.

He started pathetically fumbling, trying to get off the couch. Dan felt like the absolute worst human to have ever existed, like he'd somehow kicked a puppy and a baby at the same time. He forced Nate back down onto the couch and said sincerely, "Dude, are you kidding me? It's fine. Just tell me what's up."

Nate didn't say anything at first. He just sat there looking sad. Finally he said, "Stupid, stupid, stupid. So much. Stupidity to the quadratic power if you will."

Nate paused for a moment as if waiting for Dan to interrupt him and point out the absurdity of his statement, so that they didn't have to focus on what was actually bothering him. Dan, for once, withheld his commentary and waited. Finally, Nate sighed and said, "I got into it with Chuck about Blair, and well…"

"Chuck's best defense is a brutal offense."

Nate nodded exaggeratedly and said, "Mhmm. That thing."

"Well, did you work it out with him?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not yet. But I probably will soon."

His tone spoke volumes about how he was going to handle the situation. He was going to get drunk tonight, and tomorrow it would be as if the day never happened. Chuck's insults, his identity crisis, this drunken meltdown would all be a distant memory that he'd reflect on much, much later if he reflected on it at all.

Dan sighed sadly and said, "Dude you don't need that."

"I know. But I'm all he has. Sides Lilly o' course. Plus, he's seeing Blair today. Etcetera, etcetera."

"Just don't let him walk all over you, all right? You're Nate Fucking Archibald, you bow to no one."

Nate shot him an annoyed glare. "A Lord of the Rings reference? Really?"

"Yes. And I don't care what anyone says, that series is a work of art. Hopefully, one day I will get Blair to see it as such. She is such a fantasy snob sometimes."

"Dude, what just happened to your face?"

"What?" Dan asked, bringing his hands up to check it for abnormalities.

"You went like stupid happy for a second."

He put his hands down quickly and snapped, "No I didn't."

"You totally did. I'm drunk, but I'm not that drunk. Mostly because you're the free mason of waffles and alcohol."

Dan smiled. "I think if you examined that last sentence, you disproved your main point."

"Wait, so you're friends with Blair. How did that happen?"

Dan knew he was serving as a distraction for Nate, but he didn't mind. This was a story he'd been dying to tell. "Well, everyone was gone over the summer. We were bored and we discovered that we apparently like going to the same old movies, and milling around museums and seeing the odd opera. At first, we weren't sure what to make of it, whether it was a fluke or whether we were both just going through a mental breakdown at the same time or whatever. But then we realized we just genuinely enjoyed each other's company. So yeah, we're friends….. So, you were talking about feeling a lack of purpose and identity?"

"Your face is doing that thing again."

"No it's not. Focus on the question."

"Right. Right. Ugh right. I don't know what to do with my life. I've been trying to fill it up with partying and with sex, but I dunno. Lately, I just feel like that's not enough."

"That must have been so shocking."

"Fuck you."

"I'm kidding. Keep talking."

"I just want to find my nishhhhh."

"Your niche?"

"Mhmm."

"I think you're too drunk to have this conversation properly. "

Nate narrowed his eyes blearily. "Mhmmm."

"Here's the plan: you sleep this off and we'll talk about it more tomorrow. "

"Mhmmmmmm," he said, slumping back onto the couch without another word.

His face had always been a bloody traitor, giving away his top level security secrets at the drop of a hat. He didn't know what expression had overpowered his face while he had been talking about Blair, but apparently it had been treacherous enough to inspire suspicion in a half brain dead Nate.

He made a mental note to assassinate that facial expression on sight. It knew too much.

He left Nate snoozing on the couch and entered his room. His still bare, minimalist, mental ward style room. He sank down on the blank bed sheets and sighed. He was worried about Nate. Nate had been spending an inordinate amount of time with Chuck since Hurricane Chair had finally petered out. He'd also started struggling even more so at school. Nate had never been a star student at St. Jude's, but he had always passed. Earlier this month, Nate confided in him that at college, this was no longer the case.

He was worried, but also a little glad that Nate was taking the consequences of his actions seriously. He hated Chuck for destroying Nate's self-confidence, but was a little relieved that he'd forced Nate to become self-aware. For all Dan's little nudges and hints, Nate had refused to go to so much as a tutoring session with Dan, even stopped studying with him, claiming that Dan's scholastic neuroses were "freaking him out."

Tomorrow, he could finally talk to Nate openly about what he needed to do to get out of the hole he dug himself. He was selfishly excited to be getting his best friend back from Chuck's alcoholic clutches.

Dan smiled at the thought, sinking further into the bed after grabbing his iPod and The Age of Innocence from his nightstand. The elixir of soft sounds and sweet prose relaxed his strained nerves and sent him to a whole other world. Unfortunately for him though, the peace didn't last.

After about an hour of reading and relaxing, there was a loud _tap, tap_ on his windowpane.

"Vanessa?"

He ripped out his iPod immediately, and set down his book. He took a moment to stare at her. Her brown curls wreathed her face like a halo, but he knew better. She smiled at him awkwardly and gestured for him to open the window. Against his better judgment, he did so.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

She didn't answer at first. She waited for him to sit down on his bed and took a seat across from him at his desk.

"Are you _finally_ remodeling in here? Who finally convinced you?"

"No one and answer the question, Vanessa."

"All right. All right. I came here to apologize," she said defensively.

Her tone ticked him off. She didn't sound the least bit sorry. She never did. She was self-righteous to the last. So he crossed his arms and said, "Sure you did."

"Look, Dan, I'm sorry for how everything went down. I came here to try to make it right."

Unbidden, his mind recalled the ghost of her lips on his, of her fingers curling softly in his hair, of feelings long past. The ghost was cold though, ice cold, like his fury about how she went about treating his friends and family. It helped him steel himself against her warm words. He knew her trip today would not resolve like she hoped it would.

"You should be sorry. What you did was unacceptable, unthinkable."

"I know I made some mistakes, but I can—"

"You can what exactly?"

"Try to fix things," she said softly. She looked deeply into his eyes and tried to convince him of her earnestness with a look. Maybe if this hadn't been the fifty-seventh time she used it, he'd feel its sincerity a bit more.

"No I don't think you can. Right now, where I'm at, I pretty much hate you. And I don't think that's changing any time soon. "

"So you're tossing me aside then? Like I was nothing," she shot at him bitterly.

He paused for a moment. Then the words came out in a rush, "No I'm shutting you out because you were everything, Vanessa and you screwed it up."

"Dan—"

"No I don't want you in my life. I need space. Light-years of it. That's space _and_ time. "

"Dan—"

"Please, just go."

"No."

Her eyes flashed and Dan sighed. He knew that look. It was the same look she gave their fifth grade teacher after he asked politely if she would stop talking about the consequences of neoliberalism and globalization and let him get on with the lecture. That episode ended with her standing on top of her desk, flipping him off and shouting "God is dead!" at the top of her lungs.

Dan knew the only way he'd get her out of here now was over her cold, dead body.

Which was a completely valid option…

He was in the middle of planning how he'd get rid of the body when they both heard a load groan from the living room

"Is someone else here?" she asked

"Yeah, Nate. He's drunk off his ass and needs a place to crash."

"It's three in the afternoon."

"Astute observation, Einstein. Now here's the plan, I'm going to leave and when I come back, I expect you to be gone."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Suit yourself then."

In a storm of unresolved anger, he stalked out of the room and shut the door. His mood did not improve when he saw that Nate had somehow managed to fall off the couch and was dead asleep on the hardwood floor. After Dan maneuvered the coffee table a bit, he could finally pick up dead weight Nate and shove him unceremoniously back on the couch.

"You suck dude," he said for good measure.

"Love you too."

"You were awake!"

"Nope," Nate mumbled into the couch pillows.

"Oh my god."

To spite Nate's attempts to sleep and to distract himself from the harpy waiting for him in his bedroom, he stuck in _Saving Private Ryan_ and turned the volume all the way up.

"You're an asshole, Humphrey. An absolute asshole. "

"Back at you, Archibald."

Eventually, Dan turned the volume to a normal level, but Nate couldn't get back to sleep. He stayed up and watched the movie with him. Towards the tail end, Nate started looking a bit green, so Dan got up and got him some more water and a trashcan, just in case.

They were both settled in and ready to watch the climactic scene without crying because damn it they were grown men when someone started banging on the loft door.

"If you think I'm going to wait to watch this so you can answer the damn door, you're sadly mistaken."

"Fuck you."

Dan begrudgingly got up and answered the increasingly insistent knocks on his door, cursing whoever it was for making him miss the end.

"Whoah, now what the hell are you doing here?"

Chuck Bass, believe or not, stood in the doorway of his Brooklyn loft.

"Where's Nate?"

Crossing his arms and closing the door a bit, Dan blocked Chuck's entry into the loft and said "He's sleeping off a bender on the couch."

Chuck shoved past Dan's admittedly weak barrier, and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "He's coming with me."

"He's not going anywhere."

"Is that so, Humphrey?"

"Yes, that's _so_, "he said mocking, "Whatever you said really hurt him. I don't think he wants to take off with the guy who figuratively punched him in the nuts."

"Why? Why are the people I love choosing you? You're a spineless coward with absolutely no fashion sense. You're rich! You can hire people to have style for you! There is _literally_ no excuse."

Dan didn't know whether to laugh or be offended. "You and Blair probably bonded over fashion didn't you?"

"We bonded over fashion, great sex and love, Humphrey. What the fuck are you two bonding over?"

Okay, offended it is. "Chuck, maybe if you stopped being such an insufferable asshole, more people would want to be around you."

"Oh really?"

"Really, you gigantic jackass."

"Well maybe you're right!"

"No I'm not– I mean. I am? I _am_."

Chuck just stood there looking angrily at him.

"I'm sorry I don't know what to say. This did not go how I expected," Dan rambled.

Chuck stared at him like a science experiment he needed to study and asked, "How do I? I mean what do I…? Whatever I need to do I'll…I just want her to trust me again."

Dan didn't know what to do. This day was getting to be a bit much. Chuck kept pacing manically while he waited for Dan to give him some nugget of wisdom like he was relationship Yoda and Vanessa had conquered his room and would probably never give it back until he brokered an uneasy treaty and Nate was throwing up in his trashcan and had misplaced his identity and Dan had never felt so old and young at the same time.

Finally he said, "Chuck, sit down."

Chuck looked like he was about to protest, but eventually sat down on one of the bar chairs.

Dan sighed and continued, "Look, I don't have the answers you need. I think you need to talk to someone, a professional."

"You're saying I'm crazy?"

"I'm saying I think no one in our immediate friend group is intelligent or capable enough to handle your complex problems on their own. And yeah, no I think you're stone cold crazy. "

"I'll take that under advisement" he paused and looked over at his sickly friend, "How do I make it up to Nate in the meantime?"

"Oh Nate's doing his best to kill the memory of this day. He probably won't want to talk about it. Just be sure to apologize before he asks you to."

"Being a Bass means never having to say you're sorry."

Dan nearly punched him in the face. "Well then you're gonna lose a great friend."

"No. That was something my father used to tell me. I'll make it up to him, I swear."

"Oh ok then." _Stone cold craaazzyy._ "So…"

There was an awkward pause where neither of them knew what to say. Finally, Chuck broke the silence with, "Got any scotch?"

"Got whiskey. Are we hanging out?"

"I guess that's up to you."

Dan left him on the hook for a couple of seconds to be an asshole. Then he rolled his eyes and said, "This is gonna be weird. This hasn't happened since…"

"Yeah…that."

"Listen, I'm only sorry about Charlie Trout thirty-five percent of the time. Most of the time I think we can just call it even since you tried to rape my sister, and then later took her virginity."

Chuck for once looked mildly shamefaced. "So a therapist you said?"

Dan was in the middle of nodding sarcastically when another round of insistent knocking rang throughout the loft.

"Yeah, here's some whiskey. Leave me some. I do not plan to be sober for this."

As soon as an inch of the loft door was open, none other than Blair Waldorf shoved her way past and slammed the damn thing behind her.

"Humphrey, you have not been answering your phone again. I thought we had an agreement. That lunch date with Chuck was a total fiasco! I called to warn you about his plan to murder you, but you didn't pick up. So now, I'm going to have to do it before he gets the chance. Pick. Up. Your. Damn. Phone, " she said, punctuating each word with a poke to his chest.

"Hello Blair," Chuck said sardonically.

"Chuck? What is Chuck doing here? And Nate?"

Dan smiled and said, "Vanessa's probably still in my room too if you want to hang out with her. I think I have to make up with her if I'm going to hang out with Chuck."

"What? What is going on, Humphrey?"

He knew his face was doing its stupid happy thing again. He hadn't stopped smiling since she got here. Her face was flushed and her curls were slightly disheveled, and it was because she tried to warn him about Apocalypse Chuck. He just smiled in a carefree fashion and told her everything.

"Waldorf, I have no fucking idea. It's been like the Upper East side is Godzilla and I'm just poor defenseless Japan. But you know what, I've decided just now to be very zen about this and accept that my loft has been invaded by crazy people."

"Well de-zen and explain this," she said, poking his chest a couple more times.

He just smiled benignly and said, "So violent. Would you like some alcohol? I want some alcohol."

Her nose crinkled in that cute way it does when she's disgusted. "What kind?"

"Whiskey."

It crinkled even more. "That's disgusting," she paused, looked at Chuck and said, "Two shots to start off and keep 'em coming."

"Same goes for me," said Chuck.

"AND ME!" shouted Nate.

"Oh god, you're alive now?" Dan asked.

"Mhmmm."

"Jesus, Blair, invite Serena. It'd be weird if she found out we all got drunk together without her."

"Already on it. I don't really understand how this is happening without her. Isn't she our lynch pin personality?"

"Nope. Apparently Humphrey is our lynch pin. So I think it's a pretty safe bet that the end is nigh."

"Shut up and drink, Chuck. We cannot possibly deal with this sober. "

"DRINK!" Nate shouted.

"SHUT UP NATE!" the three shouted back.

"You shut up."

Blair leaned her head against Dan's back and breathed, "This is going to be a long night."


	8. Chapter 8

Blair was somewhere between tipsy and date rape-able when Serena finally made it to the party.

"Serenaaaaa! Welcome, welcome to la casa de Hump-fraaaay. We missed youuuu."

Blair lunged at the blonde haired blur that she assumed was Serena and gave her a big hug. Or love tackle. Either way, Serena was trapped in Blair's arm cage of friendship.

"Wow, I thought you were joking."

"I would never kid about my new band, Blair Waldorf and the Bandits."

Serena looked down at her drunken mess of a friend and gave her a small, strained smile, and said, "None of you play any instruments."

"Nate plays two notes on the guitar." She waved two fingers in Serena's face so she knew, for sure, which number she was talking about. "And Dan and Chuck will be my hot backup dancers. Eye candy only."

"Oh, ok then," Serena replied, escaping from the arm cage, and throwing down her purse and coat on the empty bar stool. "Hold up, did you just call Dan eye candy?"

Dan smirked a happy drunken smirk and said, "They do call alcohol a kinda trufff serummmm."

"Wow. I need a couple shots STAT. I'm not drunk enough for this crowd."

"Humphrey, get off your ass and get our modern Rapunzel ten shots."

"I don't need ten—"

"TEN SHOTS!"

"Why me?" Dan pouted, pursing his lips in a way that was not sexy at all, that did not make Blair want to smash her face to his face in any way, shape or form.

"Because your face is stupid and you live here. Hospitality n shit."

"Wow Blair. Just wow."

"Just get her ten shots, Humpfraaaay."

"Call me Dan and I will."

"Fine. Daaaan. Get her the shots, slaaaave!"

"She gets a wee bit dictatorial when she's drunk. Doesn't she?" he asked Serena lazily.

"I do not!"

Serena looked at Blair and then leaned into Dan like she was telling a secret and said, "She totally does."

"Weeeellllll, I guess no Paris for you in the new world order!"

"Blair, come stroke my hair and tell me I'm pretty," Nate demanded from the couch.

"Sure thing, Natalia. Just have to tell Serena something."

Serena looked up from watching the amusing scene of Dan haphazardly making ten shots and asked, "What do you need to tell me?"

"Dan and I are friends now."

"What?" Serena looked to Dan, half-hoping he would protest. He just shrugged his shoulders and kept making shots.

"Yep. Hope this isn't weird for you. I have to go pet Nate's hair now."

"Hang on. When did this happen? How did this happen? Are you sure you guys are friends?"

"He grows on you like a fungus until it's too late and you're not sure whether you should just cut off the limb or let it infect your whole body, thereby killing you. And well, I took too long to decide and he killed me. Now, I'm friends with him."

"BFFs forever," he quipped.

"Bite me," she replied, sauntering off to the couch where Nate purred like a drunken, spoiled cat.

"Serena, I was as confused as you are," Chuck shot from the living room. "But drinking made everything so clear."

"What did it clear up?"

"Just drink. You'll find out."

"DRINK," Nate decreed.

Dan smiled at Serena, and said, "I think you're being peer pressured."

She smiled back and said, "I think so too."

"What's an innocent girl like you to do?"

"I guess I should take a drink or three."

"Or ten, according to Blair."

"So you two are really friends? After all the time I spent trying to convince you two that you'd like each other, you both ignore me until we're finally broken up."

"Yep. We're both really stubborn if you hadn't noticed. We have that in common. We know that now because we're friends."

"Stop being an ass and give me that drink," Serena said fondly, snatching the shot glass out of his hand and downing it in one. He handed her another like a challenge which she rose to effortlessly.

He smiled, patted her back and left her to the rest of the shots. Blair watched the interaction with a growing sense of unease. Serena was way too flirty with Dan tonight. Something must be up with badly dressed professor man; Serena must be planning to use Dan to feel better about herself.

Before she wouldn't have cared who Serena toyed with to bolster her self-esteem, but now, it was poor, pathetic Humphrey who never knew how to combat Tsunami Serena when it hit him full force. She was going to have to do something about it.

"Dan, come here," she demanded, patting the seat next to her and shoving Nate abruptly off the couch.

"Ouch. You suck."

"Suck it up, Pansy-bald."

"I don't like this friendship."

"I don't like your face."

"What's wrong with my face? It's all I have going for me right now!"

"Nate, you're beautiful and I suck," Chuck said.

"Yes you do. You should pet my hair to make up for your assholery."

"Fine. Get over here," Chuck said wearily, resigned to his fate.

"Are you two done? I'm trrryiing to talk to Dan here."

"Whatever, Waldorf. We're awesome."

"What was that? I'm sorry I don't speak _loser_."

Nate stuck out his tongue in retaliation and Blair might have responded in kind like an unrefined twelve-year-old. But no one would ever be able to prove it, not after she kills the witnesses. She made a note in her phone titled "Kill the Witnesses" so she wouldn't forget the next morning.

After she was done, her eyes snapped on Dan's face and she demanded, "Dan, stop lazing about in that chair and do something useful, like pet _my_ hair."

It didn't escape Blair's notice that Serena took a particularly big shot at that comment.

Dan smiled confusedly, but did as he was bid. He sat down at the end of the couch and she laid her head gingerly on his lap. He looked down at her with a mixture of contentment and confusion and began stroking the tresses of her hair.

Her heart stopped for a moment as she locked eyes with him before the tempo redoubled with gusto. The drumming was so loud she could no longer hear the bad indie band he put on as background music. When she finally broke his stare, she just closed her eyes and felt his fingers in her hair.

"So this isn't supremely weird for everybody?" Serena asked loudly from the kitchen. "You're all just _fine_ with this?"

Nate looked at Dan and Blair and shrugged. Chuck was ignoring the situation like it'd disappear somehow if he didn't look at it too hard.

Blair replied, "Guess you're the only one who's bothered, S. But don't be. Dan and Blair as friends will grow on you like Dan grew on me."

"Yeah, if you're sure that's all this is."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about all this business," she said petulantly, gesturing to their current admittedly somewhat compromising position. "He is stroking your hair, B. You always said your boyfriend was the only one who could touch your hair."

"Oh please. I am drunk out of my mind. I have half a mind to stand up and yell at you except I'm pretty sure I'd fall over."

"This is weird!"

"You're making this into something it isn't and I really wish you wouldn't."

"Maybe you're the one not seeing it for what it really is!"

A wound Blair had ignored and left festering for months was finally too painful to disregard. Her eyes flashed as she sat up and said emphatically, "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out! Dan has been more of a friend to me in these past few months than you've been in the last _year_, Serena. The reason why I am so familiar with him is because he is there for me. Maybe you would have known about this sooner if you hadn't been such an absentee best friend for so long. Get out!"

"Oh no, you do not get to put this all on me!"

"You wanna bet?"

"Serena," Dan said quietly from the couch, "I think you should go."

Blair smiled at him and sunk back into his lap. She hadn't realized she'd risen up, but sometime during her impassioned speech, she'd sat up and had been clutching Dan's leg for dear life.

Serena watched their interaction and was stunned by how much Blair didn't see. Dan hadn't looked at a woman like that since…her. It hurt more than she thought it would.

Serena sucked in a deep breath, sat down on the bar stool chair and spat, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Not even when the host tells you to? You got some nerve, S."

Blair heaved a loud sigh and pouted at Dan, willing him to make the situation go away. He smiled softly at her expression and said, "Don't worry about her, Blair. She can just go join Vane….oh my god, Vanessa."

Blair snorted. "You forgot about her, didn't you?"

Dan put his head in his hands and mumbled, "Maybe."

"Story of her liiiife," Blair sang.

Dan groaned. "No, don't say that."

"Why, because it's true?"

"I'm gonna go check on her," he grumbled, sending an apologetic look for leaving her alone with the blonde ticking time bomb. She rolled her eyes at him, silently telling him that she could handle it. She is Blair Waldorf after all.

"Wait, Vanessa's here?" Serena demanded. "Vanessa? What the hell happened today?"

"You miss a lot when you go on a sex sabbatical."

"It's not just about the sex with him! I love him."

"Sure you do, Serena."

"Chuck, why are you not more angry about this?" Serena demanded, looking for backup.

Chuck finally looked up from Nate's hair and said nonchalantly, "Blair can hang out with whatever pet plebian suits her fancy."

Blair was amused to find that part of Serena's face was actually twitching in fury. She laughed aloud, got up from the couch, walked over to the bar and purposefully reached across Serena to grab another shot. She stared S down from over the shot glass and downed it in one. She saw Serena reach for a shot herself and Blair grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Only people invited get to drink. All the untouchables have to do without."

Serena's eyes flashed in anger. She made one last ditch attempt to get Chuck to side with her. "Chuck, don't you see what's happening here?"

Chuck was just about to open his mouth when Blair said, "Chuck, don't speak."

Just like that, Chuck looked from Serena to Blair and shrugged. He looked away and tried to calm Nate down since he was silently panicking like a little kid caught in the crossfire of a nasty divorce.

"See that, S. Chuck's trying to win me over with excessive flattery and not being an asshole. Essentially, he's my bitch until I see fit to forgive him."

"Is it working?" he asked hopefully.

"What did I say about not speaking?"

He shot her a nasty look but said nothing.

"You've been running around, ignoring school, ignoring friends, ignoring _me_ just so you can run around with a badly dressed _loser_ of an ex-con who is probably uneasy about dating you. The reason we haven't seen you in so long is..isss because he's ashamed to be seen with an ex-student. Now I don't…I don't judge you for that. What I judge you for is forgetting about everything in order to be with _some_ guy. When I think about you these days, "Where'd You Go" starts playing, on repeat, in my heart. And I fucking hate that song."

She took a breath. "So just get out, Serena. I don't need you anymore."

"Good, glad to hear it," Serena spat, picking up her purse.

With that, Blair turned around and kept her back to Serena while the blonde stalked across the room and slammed the door on the way out.

After the door slam, Blair smiled and took another calming breath. She sat down on the couch and mused aloud, "I think I'll going to start calling Dan, D and make him wear a blonde wig. We'll have mani/pedis every Thursday and watch old musicals on Friday."

"No. Absolutely not," he responded bemusedly.

"Speak of the devillllllll."

"No wigs. ManiPedi's, I'll think about."

He came down and sat at the opposite end of the couch. She wished he hadn't. She wished he had come over and put his arms around her, hugged her and told her everything was going to be ok. But he was just giving her space and being a considerate friend after Serena pointed out their relationship weirdness. He clearly had no idea what she wanted from him. To be fair, she still wasn't exactly sure what she wanted from him. All she knew was she wanted a hug, so she got up, made herself a mix drink, and sat down next to him so his arm would naturally drape over her shoulders. He took the cue, drew her closer to his chest and rubbed her shoulders soothingly. She smiled sadly.

"You ok?" he asked.

His eyes were doing that soft, caring thing again. That in addition to the alcohol, let her be honest. "I will be. Going back to the apartment's going to be weird though."

"You can stay here if you like. You can all stay here. You drunkards shouldn't be on the streets!" he exclaimed, smiling like this the best idea in the world. Like they were all ten and were gonna have a _super cool_ sleepover.

She genuinely thought about berating him for being his usual idiot self but she was far too comfortable wrapped up in his arms to argue. The drunkards just nodded their heads unenthusiastically in tacit agreement to his nutty plan.

"We all own town cars," she said. "I'm sorry I'm down with this plan, but it just needs to be said."

Nate chuckled, "When's the last time anyone of us drove a car?"

"This summer when Blair and I had to go incognito to find Juliette," Dan piped up.

"Is that where this all happened?" Chuck asked lazily.

"God no," she scoffed, "Still _hated_ each other back then."

"I'm pretty sure I had planned seven ways of murdering you on the way over."

"Only seven? That's cute, Humphrey. At least 578, if not more."

"Why are we friends again?"

"Because I insult you and you love it."

"Oh man, that's some fucked up Freudian shit about me, isn't it?"

"Yep. You're not as bad as Chuck though. He was in love with me."

"We've already agreed I need a therapist."

She snorted lightly. She was planning just to glance quickly at Dan and look away when she observed some haywire emotions flitting across his features. She cocked her head sideways to ask him, without seeming like she cared, what was wrong. He smiled softly, shook his head and mouthed "don't worry about it."

But she was worried about it. She nuzzled her head into his shoulders as if to say "you can trust me, you know." And he smiled.

"So what happened to Vanessa?" Nate asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh, she wasn't there which means she's probably stolen something important so I have to talk to her later."

Nate chuckled. "Classic Vanessa. I can't believe I dated her."

"I can't believe we both dated her," Dan said.

"I only slept with her."

Blair made a noise of disgust and said, "We are such an incestuous friend group. Oh my god. How are we still friends? We're like a cult."

"I prefer to think of us as a way of life."

"That's the wisest thing you've said in a while, Chuck," Dan said.

"I'll drink to that," Chuck replied.

"Cheers, to the Upper East Side," Blair said grandiosely.

"And to the sisterhood. And to this moment, and the rest of our lives. Together and apart."

"No Nate. You're never allowed to drink again," Blair declared.

"Sisterhood of the Traveling Alcohol," Nate mused, "Now, **that** would bring some adventure to your life. Not some faded pair of pants."

"You really liked that book, didn't you?" Blair asked, looking at her mess of a friend fondly.

"It just caught me at the right moment. And Lena gets me, you know? All that beauty but doesn't know what to do with it. It's like looking in a book mirror."

"Your vanity is concerning," Blair remarked.

"So is your god complex," Dan teased.

"And so is your inferiority complex and Chuck's just general…complex," she said, gesturing to all of him.

"Hey. Unnecessary."

"Won't apologize. If it makes you feel better though, you're the best dressed man here."

"Hey! Ruuude," Nate pouted.

"There's not much competition. It's an Olympian battling little leaguers."

She snorted. "Guys, why are we the best?"

"Good Karma?" Chuck drawled.

Everyone laughed at that. Suddenly, Dan who had been quiet for a while spoke up, "Because we stick together, no matter what life or Gossip Girl throws at us. We forgive each other, even after we were awful to one another."

"Wr-wr-wr-writer in da house," Nate mocked.

"Shut up. I mean it. I've thought about this weird friend group so many times and why it's still so important to me and I keep coming up with we're just family at this point. A fucked up family, for sure. I mean we don't always like each other but we're always there for each other. Or mostly always there. Or maybe Nate's just there for me and sometimes Serena, but now recently Blair which is new. And Chuck, like never actually…."

"Humphrey, stop. You'll never be able to explain this friend group. It defies all logic. 'S what makes it perfect," Nate said.

"Yeah," Chuck concurred.

Blair thought for a moment and agreed, "Yeah."

"I love you guys," Nate said, hugging the back of Chuck's legs.

"Back at you," Blair said fondly, while taking a picture of that Kodak moment for future blackmail purposes.

"I don't love Humphrey yet," Chuck made sure to note.

"Just wait. He grows on you. You'll be bros before hoes by Christmas, mark my words."

Dan and Chuck eyed each other darkly and scoffed.

"I can already see the matching sweater sets."

"Shut up Blair."

A warm silence enveloped the room. Each person, for the first time, felt a sense of camaraderie. They hadn't had a kind moment without an impending social crisis in too long a time. It felt nice and new but comfortable. Maybe they were really friends, or could be friends. Maybe there was more to this group of upper class misfits than they'd always thought.

"So sleep?" Chuck finally asked.

"God yes," Blair exhaled.

Nate called Rufus' old room and Chuck passed out on the couch. Blair had called Jenny's room when Dan pointed out that it had unfortunately been collapsed in Project Redecoration.

"You could sleep on my bed. I'll take the floor or something."

"Don't be ridiculous. Your bed's so huge now that we can share."

He looked at her questioningly, but made no other comment. He gave her a wide berth as they went to lie down. For some reason, her drunk brain found this hilarious, so to fuck with his plan, she moved directly to the center of the bed, taking up as much space as possible and then stretching her right arm so that it laid directly on top of his face.

"Cute."

"Night Humphrey. Hope you're comfortable."

"Goodnight sisterhood of the traveling alcohol," Nate called loudly from Rufus' room.

"Goodnight person who needs to be euthanized."

"Love you too Blair."

Before she knew it, she was too comfortable to move from the center of the bed, but kept bumping into Humphrey's side as he tossed and turned nervously. Finally, she put her hand on his shoulder and said quietly, "Calm down or you'll never get to sleep."

He slowly turned over toward her. Then, catching her quite unawares, he gave her the most intense stare she could ever remember receiving. She wanted to remind him that she can't actually read minds and to _use your damn words, Humphrey_, but she selfishly didn't want the moment to end. So instead she reached out and stroked the side of his face. She could feel the tension melt under her touch until finally, he closed his eyes. Transfixed, she watched as his breathing began to slow and all the muscles in his body softened. Before her arm had even gotten tired, he was fast asleep.

Thoughts rushed unbidden in her head. "What does this mean? Is Serena right? Am I in deep shit about _Humphrey_?" Fortunately, they were interrupted when he made a ridiculous cooing sound in his sleep.

She snorted at the ridiculousness that was Humphrey, berated herself from being dumb, and pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. But before she went to sleep, she couldn't help but give him a soft kiss on his cheek and whisper, "Sweet dreams, Cabbage Patch."

And it could have been a trick of light, but she swore, for a moment, she caught him smiling.


End file.
